


Late in the Arvo

by FlamingKookie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Western, Drama, F/M, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingKookie/pseuds/FlamingKookie
Summary: Chris and Felix rob a wagon and find themselves in trouble with the Empire.





	Late in the Arvo

I

 

The sun beat down on Chris as he thumbed one of his shotgun shells. Sweat dampened his grey shirt and stuck his thick black hair to his forehead. The only relief was beneath a heavy oak tree by the road. He checked his pocket watch. It was late. The itch for whiskey only got worse and he tapped anxiously on the shotgun shell before he slid it into the breach of his double barrel and snapped it shut. Chris looked to the sky. Not a cloud. If he’d known the drought was coming he would have found a place for Felix with shade as well. But as he thought on it, it made him chuckle at the thought of Felix’s sunburnt face. Impatient, he practiced reloading his shotgun over and over. He pulled the shells out and tossed them in the air before he caught them with the same hand, slammed them back into the barrel, and closed the breach. He got it down to just a few seconds. It was one of the only things he was quicker than Felix at.

Just as he was about to begin practicing on his revolvers, he saw a speck in the distance. While it was too far away to properly identify, Chris flashed his watch in the sun to signal Felix and pulled his black bandanna up over his face. As the speck got closer, he saw it was two vehicles, a wagon and a stage coach. Each had a lone driver and he guessed the coach likely had someone inside. When the caravan was in view he could see the back of the wagon was covered and knew it was what they were waiting for. Neither driver seemed to notice Chris as he scooted down the hill towards the road and kicked four large rocks he’d prepared down to the road. The bushes which surrounded the tree offered Chris concealment and he was motionless as he waited. He was satisfied when all four rocks landed perfectly on the road and the stage coach pulled to a stop. Chris let out a deep breath and popped out from his hiding spot.

“Hands up, friends.” The driver of the coach looked at him. “Nothing stupid. We all know the drill.”

“Shit.”

“That’s right. Arms up and get off.” He shifted his aim to the driver of the wagon. “You too, let’s go.” Both drivers stepped off and kept their hands high. “Anyone in the coach?”

“No.”

“Mind opening that door for me then?” A few tense moments passed before the driver gave a begrudging nod and moved to the coach. Chris kept his gun trained on the door and, when the driver opened it, all Chris saw were empty seats. He frowned. “Empty?”

“We’re picking up in Ambertown.”

“Who.”

“Some rich boy.”

“Rich boy?”

“We don’t get details, just coin.”

“Alright. Both of you on the ground. Partner’s you both between the eyes if you try anything.” A few moments passed and neither driver moved so Chris took out his watch and flashed it behind him. Both drivers suddenly squinted as they were flashed in the eyes by a second flash and they got flat on their stomachs. Satisfied, Chris stepped up into the coach. It was big and could likely fit six comfortably. The fine interior and artful woodwork showed it as clearly meant for someone of status. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air and he looked around. Suddenly, there was a hard impact with his stomach as he felt himself get pushed out of the coach and taken off his feet. He pulled one of the triggers out of reflex and there was a shower of splinters as the shotgun punched a hole through one of the coach walls. When he landed on his back by the coach driver, still down in the dirt, the wind was knocked out of him and he could do little but wheeze. The driver was on him before he could catch his breath and they fought for the gun. A fist slammed into Chris’s face he could taste metal where his lip had been cut. He tried to fight back but the fall left his arms weak. The driver managed to get to his feet and yanked the gun out of Chris’s hands before the driver was sent flying off of him. The bullet struck the driver right through the ribcage as an explosion of blood and splintered bone erupted within the man’s shirt. He fell to the ground, motionless. Chris forced himself back onto his feet and saw the wagon driver running away. He pulled out both revolvers and fired but they kicked up dust around the wagon driver’s feet as he was still too dazed and winded to aim properly. He was about to chase after when the wagon driver twitched awkwardly as half of his skull blew off and the man fell in a bloody mess, his brain spattered across the road.

As Chris looked around but found nothing to show signs of a third person, air finally rushed into his lungs. He tried to reload his revolvers quickly and tried to read the situation. On the wind he heard a soft whistle and he whistled in response. With both guns loaded, Chris stepped into the coach. He swung his arms around and kicked at every empty space he could find but there was no reaction. Unsure, Chris left the coach and moved to the wagon. He pulled away the tarp to see two large chests stuffed in the back. The driver’s pockets had nothing and he kicked the dead wagon driver just as Felix rounded the corner with their own wagon drawn by their potbellied draught horse, Poke. Felix’s black shirt was soaked with even more sweat than Chris’s and he could see where the leather strap of Felix’s rolling block rifle cut into the burnt skin of his neck. Chris was unable to restrain a laugh as he saw Felix’s burnt face. Apparently Felix’s Stetson did little up on the ridge.

“You know you’re lucky I saved you,” Felix said, his deep voice laced with a partly feigned annoyance as he brought Poke to a stop and began to drag one of the bodies to the bushes.

“You’re behind so I thought I’d let you have a few,” Chris shot back as he grabbed one of the chests and brought it to the edge. Felix put the second body next to the first and gave them a quick second check but only got a few coins for his troubles.

“Think the coach is worth anything?” asked Felix. “Looks like a good one.”

“Probably get a few hundred for it.”

“What happened in there?”

“I don’t know. Probably a defensive rune or something. Whatever it was it didn’t activate when I went in the second time.” They loaded the loot into their own wagon and less than ten minutes later, Chris snapped the reigns of the coach and Felix followed with the other horses following him.

 

 

II

 

“The hell I’m getting a hundred for it!” Chris yelled. Outside, Felix hid his smirk while he fed Poke an apple. Slick Mick, the local coach fence, spit out some of his Miska leaf tobacco and tightened his lips. The signature purple stain of the tobacco coated each of Slick Mick’s teeth as he stuffed a few fresh leaves into his lower lip and pointed where Chris’s shotgun had damaged the coach.

“There’s a big fuckin’ hole in it.”

“You can patch that up.”

“Pay that and I’ll give ya two for it.”

“Two fifty.”

“Two thirty and that’s with a good damn fixin’ on the thing.” Chris’s blood boiled in his veins. As much as he would have liked to punch out a few of those purple teeth he relented with a huff.

“Fine.” He walked out to the wagon once it was agreed to keep the coach with Slick Mick to await repairs and sat next to Felix. “Fucker trying to squeeze me a hundred centaurs for that coach.” Chris took a few deep breaths before he looked to the snickering Felix. “Don’t laugh. How much did you get for the horses?”

“Three for both of the males and two for the female.”

“Not bad.”

“So what do you wanna do for with these?” Felix asked as he pointed to the back of the wagon.

“We’ll deal with those when we set camp.” They left Mick’s barn on the outskirts of Ambertown and found their usual spot by the Silver River a quarter mile away just as the sun was beginning to set. The breeze off the water was refreshing and Chris simply unbuttoned his shirt to let it cool him down as Felix settled the Poke for the evening. “Where’s Don when you need him?” Chris asked as he began to gather sticks for a fire.

“I think he’s feeding the army right now.” Chris sighed in disappointment as he started the fire and decided to remove his shirt entirely before setting up the tent.

“We gotta head north soon. I don’t know if I can handle another ten days of this.”

“Dry up there too from what I hear.”

“Where are you hearing all this?”

“Everywhere. You just don’t listen.”

“Fuck you,” Chris retorted with a chuckle as he finished the tent. Soon the fire was roaring and Chris abandoned the heat for the relief of the river breeze once more. “Think it’ll rain tonight?”

“Only gods and wizards know.”

“Well find a god and ask him.” Felix walked to the back of the wagon and pulled a half full bottle of cheap whiskey out and tossed it to him. Chris caught it, uncorked it, and took a few heavy swigs. It burned nicely in his throat and he winced before he let out a deep breath.

“Might have to get a nice bottle next time. We got the cash for it now.”

“Shit whiskey lasts longer.”

“With you.” Felix took the freshly hunted rabbit he’d bought and began to clean it. It was lean, almost too lean, but it would make a good enough stew. Chris looked at the river. It was even lower than before. If weather kept up it would start to look more like a creak than a river. The Silver ran all the way from the Dural Mountains in the north down to the Southern Sea. Ambertown was only a few weeks journey from the sea and some time away from the dust sounded earned. They’d spent the last year robbing and killing throughout most of the southern roads and settlements. The north was far more settled and had a much higher law presence but the high pay for high risk was always there. Though they’d been thinking about moving up north for a while, the recent drought made that decision a lot easier to make.

As the rabbit boiled away with potatoes and onions, Chris decided to take a bath and stripped down to nothing before he jumped in. The cool water took the heat out of his body and he could feel his skin pebble with goosebumps. The Silver never quite lost the chill of melted snow, even after a thousand miles. Chris shook his head and looked to camp to see Felix pull out his rolling block rifle, named Taz, to clean it. Felix had never been one for wasting time, even at camp. Since they’d met up when they were thirteen, Felix had always been the one who did the dull necessities while Chris preferred the more improvised lifestyle. With the sun’s abuse soaked out of his body, Chris got out of the Silver and walked to the fire to dry off. He stood there and looked at the lamplight of Ambertown less than a half mile away.

“Thinking about going into town to relax? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Chris said as he made sure he was dry before he slipped into his pants and pulled his shirt on. “Might see if there’s a game of faro or poker going on.” Chris pulled his boots on and grabbed a hammer from the wagon. “But first we gotta see what’s in these.” Felix finished cleaning Taz and helped haul the chests out of the wagon. The locks on them were of a fine make and Chris couldn’t help but wince each time he struck them. He probably could have made a few bucks selling them if he had a key made. The locks gave away after a few strong hits and Chris opened the first one. It was full of old documents and had several smaller lock boxes inside. He was familiar with the make of the lockboxes and found the hidden key to open them. One was full of raw precious gems; rubies, sapphires, onyx, topaz, aquamarines, and amethysts. They were all uncut but the quality was clear even to them. Another lockbox had a five pound bar of silver. Neither of them could read but the documents looked official enough and they’d need someone who could read them.

The second chest was filled to the brim with scrolls. Chris had done enough work in the north to recognize magical scrolls when he saw them. The wax seal of The Tower of the Commons was recognizable to all.

“Well, shit,” Felix said as he tossed the scroll back in.

“Why would they leave all of this unprotected?”

“I don’t know.”

“Slick won’t know what to do with these. He doesn’t know anything about the wizards.” Chris looked to Ambertown. “Maybe someone in town knows?”

“You really want to go and start asking questions when someone might have been waiting for this delivery?”

“No. I’m just saying we gotta do something.” Felix could only sigh as he shut the chests. “You stay here. I’ll see if Caelan knows anything.” Felix gave a short nod.

“Let’s get these back in the wagon so no one sees them.” Once everything was put away, Chris grabbed his two revolvers, Alice and Sydney, and headed into town.

 

 

III

 

The Drunken Salamander was a rowdy tavern with almost three hundred years of history and the aura was always the first thing that caught Chris’ attention. The large fireplace at the far end was unlit, likely by demand, and each table was packed with local and foreign patrons of all sort. He walked to the bar when he saw a head of familiar short grey hair. “Hey, Caelan.” The bartender and owner, a Halfling no more than three feet high, turned and looked at him. Caelan’s face was set with webs of wrinkles and his eyes were magnified by his glasses, framed with silver. Sometimes, when Chris was close enough, he could see thin veins of gold within the silver frames. Caelan’s white shirt was the first clean one he’d seen in months and he had a fine pair of black pants, black leather boots, and a fitted crimson paisley vest. Chris almost felt inferior in his black on black on black clothing.

“What ya want, Banger?” Caelan’s voice was raspy from years of smoke and screams. Chris gave him a wide smile.

“Got ice?”

“Might.” Chris slid him a gold centaur and Caelan trapped it beneath his thumb.

“Got any of that good stuff from Alzak?” Caelan checked the edges of the coin for scrapping and nodded once he seemed satisfied.

The chill of the glass almost made Chris shiver as he saw the three cubes of ice floating inside the dark gold liquid. He sipped and instead of burning he tasted oak, black fruit, smoke, and leather. He couldn’t help but sigh and smile before he had another sip and looked around the room. No one stood out to him except for two men who began a brawl over a game of three card monte. “So, Caelan?” The Halfling looked to him as he collected a few empty glasses. “Do you know any…smart folk?” Caelan cocked an eyebrow.

“Smart folk?”

“Yeah. You know what I mean.”

“You know who to go.”

“Slick Mick ain’t who I need.” Caelan poured himself a glass of rye and had a sip.

“Must be important.”

“A guy came up to my camp this morning and gave me a bit of paperwork. You know me, I ain’t much good on reading. Looked like a lot of fancy words though. Some longer than my finger. Think you might know someone who could help out with that?” Caelan tapped his thumb against the hardwood of the bar top and sipped his rye. Chris slid a second centaur across the bar and Caelan caught it beneath his thumb.

“My boy’s a good reader if you need something like that.”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s helping with the horses. Just tell him I sent you. You’ll be sure to let an old man know what’s on those pages, right?”

“Of course, Caelan. I never leave a good friend in the dark.” Caelan nodded and moved to the next patron. The two brawlers had sprawled to the ground and one of the other patrons grabbed each of them and hurled them both out the front door. Chris was always fascinated at how undamaged the old tavern was despite the nightly rowdiness. None of them yelled at Caelan and any damage done to the place was paid for in full without question. He’d once heard that a traveler tried to sneak off with the recipe of Caelan’s famous Dragon Spit punch and was found the next morning noosed to a tree. No one knew who did it and no one asked. Even the sheriff cleaned his hands of the case after a few hours. The number of stories he’d heard about the old Halfling in his younger days were beyond count but half of them sounded like myths. Regardless, Chris always tipped the man well. He sat on his whiskey and ice until it was all gone and his glass was cleared. Satisfied, he stood up and went to find Caelan’s son.

They were the largest stables Chris had ever seen under private ownership and it could hold one hundred horses comfortably. He saw a few figures in one of the empty stalls playing a game of faro on a box turned table.

“Any of you Caelan’s boy?” Chris asked. The head of a Halfling poked out from the crowd. Where Caelan’s hair was grey with age this one’s was bright blonde and had similar eyes of jade green. He lacked Caelan’s finely kept clothes, his black vest left open and his shirt beneath stained with sweat and grime. One of his ears had a small silver hoop earring through the lobe.

“Yeah?” the Halfling asked.

“Your dad said you could help me with something.” A few of the men snickered and the Halfling sighed before he grabbed his stack of coins.

“Better be something good.”

“I think you’ll be a big help.” The Halfling nodded and held out his hand. “Gavin. Call me Gav.” Chris had to bend over to shake the young Halfling’s hand.

“Chris. You’ll meet my friend Felix at camp.”

“I ain’t doing any weird shit.”

“No weird shit. Just some reading.” The Halfling cocked an eyebrow.

“Reading’s weird shit.”

“Well, then you know to be careful.” Gav let out a deep breath and pulled out his pipe from his belt.

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

 

IV

 

Felix was sitting on the wagon when they returned to camp, Taz across his lap. Gav’s pipe, stuffed with rich Dural leaf, and the smell alone almost gave Chris a buzz.

“Evening, friend,” Felix called from the wagon and slid down to the ground. The whiskey bottle was near empty and Felix steadied himself with an arm against the wagon.

“No guests?” Chris asked with a smirk.

“Just the wind and a snake.” Felix stumbled towards Gav, who sidestepped and Felix went right past him. “Whoa…”

“This is Gav. He’s gonna do the reading,” said Chris.

“I’m Felix.” The slur in Felix’s words was heavy and he tried to hold out a hand to shake. Gav ignored it.

“Alright. What you got that needs reading?” They led Gav to the large chests still in the wagon. Gav took a heavy puff off his pipe before he climbed up. The chest was closed as quickly as it was opened. “This is a bit more than some reading.” All Chris offered was a shrug.

“It’s why we came to you.” Gav took another heavy puff before he opened the chest again and pulled out a few scrolls. He checked it and broke one of the wax seals. When no counterspell activated, Gav unrolled the scroll.

“Water conjures.” He opened a few more of the scrolls and they all appeared identical.

“For summoning water?” asked Felix.

“Probably to help with the drought. Simple spell-work. Enough scrolls to fill every dried up pond and stream around here twice over.”

“Well, shit,” said Chris. He took one of the scrolls and looked at it. The letters and sigils were all gibberish to him.

“Any idea who they’re meant for?” Gav asked. Chris and Felix shook their heads.

“There’s other stuff in that chest. Might have a name or something,” suggested Felix. Gav opened the other chest and immediately let out a heavy groan.

“You idiots…” he sighed as he pulled out a thick vellum stamped with the arcane sigil as its wax seal.

“We know the Tower of the Commons.” Gav shook his head and pointed to the bird head which rested in the center of the massive feathered wings of the sigil.

“Commons uses a falcon. This’s a Goldfinch. That’s the Tower of the Greaters.” Both Felix and Chris stared at him blankly. “The tower where wizards are taught and trained.” More blank stares. “That’s bad.”

“Shit,” Chris muttered. “Any way we can offload this somewhere?” Gav continued to look through the documents.

“Might be someone in Arwood’s Hill I know who could do it but I don’t know if she’s there.” He continued to look through all of the documents. He read one and his eyes went wide. “Is everyone dead?”

“In the caravan? Yes,” said Chris.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“The passenger was a wizard in training. Youngest son to the Emperor’s sister.”

“Passenger? There wasn’t a passenger,” Felix said.

“Yeah. Just the two drivers,” Chris followed up.

“There’s transfer papers here to the southern Arcane Academy for Aderan Turganos, youngest nephew to Emperor Turganos.” Gav holds up the formal document. “Two drivers?”

“We left the wagon the chests were on. There was a coach but we sold it. It was emp-“, Chris cut himself off, paused, and suddenly kicked the wagon. “Fuck!”

“What?”

“Something knocked me out of the coach when I first went in it but I didn’t see anything. I thought it was just a rune or something but…” He paused and looked at Gav. “How easy is it for a wizard to go invisible?”

“It takes some skill but nothing advanced. No rituals or anything.”

“Great,” Chris sighed as he hit his forehead against the wooden rail of the wagon.

“Did he see your face?”

“No. We had masks on but that’s still that’s not good for us.” Felix nodded in agreement.

“This stuff’s gotta go.” Felix looked to Gav.

“Can you help?” Gav raised his hands and stepped away.

“I don’t want any more a part of this then I already got. But I know someone who could get you to Arwood.”

“We’d appreciate it,” said Felix. Gav closed the chest and felt the empty padlock plate.

“Got any locks?” he asked. They shook their heads.

“We had to break them to get in,” said Chris.

“I’ve got a few I can spare but you didn’t get them from me.”

“Thanks,” said Chris.

“Who’s your friend who will help us?” Felix asked, the tenseness of the situation having shaken off much of his inebriation.

“Alchemist’s apprentice. From beyond the Western Lakes and likely aren’t worried to handle something this hot.” With that, Gav hopped out of the wagon and tapped out the burnt remnants of his pipe. “The alchemist’s apprentice is called Hyunjin. From what I hear he’s been doing some sidework in the underground during his usual trips to Arwood. Tell him I recommended you. I’m sure he’ll be eager to help.”

“Thans, Gav,” said Chris and gave him a few centaurs. Once Gav headed back to town, Chris sat down and looked at the fire. “Well, shit.” Felix joined him at the fire. “Guess that kills any moves up north for the time being.” Felix let out a laugh.

“Guess so.” Chris poked the fire with a stick, his appetite for rabbit stew gone. They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Felix stood up and walked over to the water and began to skip rocks across the water. Chris’s fingers began to tap against his knees.

“I told you this one gave me a bad feeling,” said Chris.

“Tim said it was fine.”

“Well, clearly he was wrong this time.”

“He’s never been wrong before.”

“He wasn’t just wrong. We got thrown into the fucking wolf den.” Felix turned and tossed a rock towards Chris at half strength. Chris prepared to move his head when the rock deflected off of something unseen between them. A pained cry went out and a young boy appeared. He wore a black silk shirt with black pants and a thin black robe. His head of rich red hair flared against the light of the fire and his skin was white as cream. His silver eyes were almost alien to Chris and the boy seemed unaware of his reveal as he rubbed where the rock had struck his ribs just a moment prior. The boy’s eyes went wide just moments before Chris tackled him to the ground.


End file.
